The other night I was invited out for a night with the girls.
I told my husband that I would be home by midnight, ‘I promise!’
Well, the hours passed and the margaritas went down way too easy.
Around 3:00 a.m., a bit loaded, I headed for home.
Just as I got in the door, the cuckoo clock in the hall started up and cuckooed 3 times.
Realizing my husband would probably wake up, I cuckooed another 9 times.
I was really proud of myself for coming up with such a quick-witted solution (even when totally smashed), in order to escape a possible conflict with him…’cuz 3 + 9 = 12! So smart!
The next morning my husband asked me what time I got in, and I told him midnight. He didn’t seem too upset at all.
I was thinking….’Whew! Got away with that…’
Then he said, ‘I think we need a new cuckoo clock.’
When asked him why, he said,
‘Well, last night our clock cuckooed three times, then it said ‘Oh sh*t!’, and cuckooed 4 more times, cleared its throat, cuckooed another 3 times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, and
then tripped over the coffee table and farted.’